There is an indigence which the poor know how to divine. The pastry-cook and his wife looked at each other and watched the old lady, while they exchanged the same thought. That louis d’or seemed to be the last. The hands of the lady trembled in offering that piece, which she looked upon with sadness and without avarice, for she seemed to realize the full extent of the sacrifice. Fasting and misery were graven upon that face in lines quite as legible as those of fear and her habits of asceticism. There were in her garments some vestiges of magnificence: the silk was threadbare, the cloak neat though old-fashioned, the lace carefully mended—in short, the tatters of opulence! The tradespeople, placed between pity and self-interest, commenced to solace their consciences by words:
“But Citizeness, you seem very feeble—”
“Perhaps Madame would like to take some refreshment?” asked the woman, cutting the words of her husband short.
“We are not so black as we are painted!” cried the pastry-cook.
“It’s so cold! Madame was perhaps chilled by her walk? But you may rest here and warm yourself a little.”
Won by the tone of benevolence which animated the words of the charitable shopkeepers, the lady avowed that she had been followed by a stranger, and that she was afraid to return home alone.
“It is no more than that?” replied the man with the red hat. “Wait for me, Citizeness.”
He gave the louis to his wife; then, moved by that species of restitution which glides into the conscience of a merchant when he has received an exorbitant price for merchandise of mediocre value, he went to put on his uniform of the National Guard, took his chapeau, thrust his sabre into his belt, and reappeared under arms; but his wife had had time to reflect. As in many other hearts, reflection closed the hand opened by beneficence. Disturbed, and fearing to see her husband in a bad affair, the pastry-cook’s wife essayed to stop him by tugging at the skirt of his coat. But, obedient to a sentiment of charity, the brave man offered to escort the old lady at once.
“It seems that the man who frightened the Citizeness is still prowling about the shop,” said the young woman nervously.
“I am afraid so,” artlessly replied the lady.